


you’ve got such brittle armor

by volta (softlees)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, hey buddy line but make it a 3 pilot jaeger, implied 97z!!!, nothing screams love like the devotion of copilots, or more accurately, rivals to drift partners to more, triangles + the law of transitivity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:07:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28876941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softlees/pseuds/volta
Summary: Minghao opens his mouth to say something else, but then Seokmin looks at him, eyes bright and eager to lead, and well, he has no other choice but to follow.They nod in sync. There has been no need for words between them for years now. Familiarity is a weighty thing, and the both of them have always carried it well. Minghao and Seokmin. Seokmin and Minghao.And now, Minghao thinks mournfully, Mingyu too.“Yes, sir. We’ll try our best.”
Relationships: Kim Mingyu/Lee Seokmin | DK, Kim Mingyu/Lee Seokmin | DK/Xu Ming Hao | The8, Kim Mingyu/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 20
Kudos: 64
Collections: Seventeen Holidays





	you’ve got such brittle armor

**Author's Note:**

> there are many things i could tell you about this one but it ended up being a whopping 1.8K words despite it written in between doing work for my classes all of yesterday. to quote the prompt, "something something TRIANGLES ARE THE STRONGEST GEOMETRIC SHAPE IN EXISTENCE and THE WORLD'S FIRST THREE-PERSON JAEGER POD OPERATES A LOT LIKE THE LAW OF TRANSITIVITY: if person a can bond with person b and person b can bond with person c, then in theory person a can bond with person" and so of course i had to, as they say, do it to em <3 or at least try my hand at it. 
> 
> thank u for reading! let me know what you think in the comments below :')
> 
> crossposted [ here](https://17hols.dreamwidth.org/4307.html?thread=159699#cmt159699) on dreamwidth | my [twitter ](https://twitter.com/loveIees)!!

At first, Minghao hates Kim Mingyu.

He’s big and he’s clumsy — fumbling, always fumbling around, whether it’s with his feet or his tongue — and more often than not, pulls these brash, stupid maneuvers during training sessions that Minghao hates with a passion. Rangers have lost their lives doing a lot less. 

It doesn’t matter to him if Mingyu miraculously lands them every single time. Minghao has been out there in the thick of it, when the rain sets down heavy and the kaiju are no longer these creatures on paper but instead these horrific monsters that tower over you, jaws snarling with spit, looking for blood. All that serves as the last barrier between you and death is your co-pilot next to you in that jaeger. Just you two, in the middle of a thunderstorm. 

What saves you then? 

**▲▲▲**

Minghao sits at the debriefing but his mind is a million miles away, back in Anshan. The kaiju are getting progressively stronger, Seungcheol says with a deep furrow to his brow. As if he hadn’t expected it. As if everyone on the front lines isn’t acutely aware of the fact that every day they fight carries them further and further from victory. 

Beijing had nearly fallen yesterday. It had taken the combined efforts of _Hermit Tango_ , _Echo Hound_ and _Solar Fox_ to fight off a category three, all jaegers manned by pilots with 4 years of experience under their belt and hundreds of kaiju carcasses in their wake. And even then, they’d just barely been able to dispatch it, fighting tooth and nail to keep the hulking beast to just two miles offshore. Two miles closer, and the casualty would have been hundreds of thousands of civilian lives, instead of just Jeon Wonwoo and Kwon Soonyoung, the co-pilots of the _Solar Fox_. 

Minghao hasn’t been able to reach his mother for seventeen hours now, and every minute of it is excruciating. 

From what Seungcheol says, Wonwoo’s and Soonyoung’s injuries aren’t too life-threateninf, but their jaeger is definitely worse for wear. It’ll put them out of commission for at least 3 months, though with what Minghao knows of Soonyoung, he’ll be raring to go in a month and a half’s time, Wonwoo never too far behind.

But still, it’s troubling. Another pair down, making it the 4th team they’ve lost in the past six months. 

The problem isn’t the kaiju. It’s the jaegers. They simply don’t have the right machines to fight their monsters. 

“What do you think, Minghao?” Seungcheol cuts into his thoughts, eyes worried. “Minghao?”

Minghao jerks to attention, eyes drawn to the screen. The schematics for the first ever 3-pilot jaeger flickers up in front of him. _Cobra Moon_. It’s bigger than anything Minghao’s ever seen. It’s beautiful. Then he looks at the three pictures of the proposed pilots beneath it. When he recognizes the faces, his heart seizes in his chest. 

That’s the thing about war: the smart ones should never seek it out. But when it comes calling, you must never be afraid to answer. 

He pauses at the last headshot. A boy, tanned and handsome, who smiles with all his canines.

“Kim Mingyu?” Minghao blurts out, horrified. _Absolutely not_ , he wants to say. _There is no way in hell I’d let him up there with Seokmin. With us._

“I know you have your reservations about him, Hao,” Seungcheol says placatingly, both hands out. “But whether you like it or not, he’s one of our best. And we don’t have the time to waste.”

“Besides,” Jihoon steps up beside Seungcheol, mouth quirking up into a grin, “nothing’s set in stone yet. You’ve got to see if you’re all drift compatible first. Your profiles all suggest that you are, but,” Jihoon shrugs, “there’s only so much that theory can uphold. _Cobra Moon’_ s the most ambitious jaeger we’ve had yet, and we’ve got to have one hell of a team to man her.”

“And you think that’s us,” Seokmin interrupts, hands fidgeting with his lips. He sounds dubious, but Minghao doesn’t think Seokmin realizes that he’s already rising up to the challenge: broad shoulders straightening, body at full attention, a grim sort of determination already settling over all of his handsome features. 

Seungcheol nods resolutely at this. “The kaiju are only getting bigger. We’ve got to get better.”

The _or else_ is implied. Minghao feels the terror of it settle across everyone’s shoulders in the room, reeking of desperation. A billion lives hang in the balance, at the mercy of chance. 

Minghao opens his mouth to say something else, but then Seokmin looks at him, eyes bright and eager to lead, and well, he has no other choice but to follow. 

They nod in sync. There has been no need for words between them for years now. Familiarity is a weighty thing, and the both of them have always carried it well. Minghao and Seokmin. Seokmin and Minghao. 

And now, Minghao thinks mournfully, Mingyu too. 

“Yes, sir. We’ll try our best.”

▼▼▼

Minghao purses his lips, scowl set permanently in place as Mingyu exits the simulation with an exhilarated laugh, sweat running gloriously down the side of face. He’s trying his best, goddamnit, but it’s proving particularly difficult today. 

Chan, a promising young pilot, follows, equally as drenched in sweat. His eyes widen when he sees that they aced the examination with flying colors, while Mingyu’s grin broadens even further. 

The sight of it irks Minghao, no matter how much he tries to stuff the emotion. Another stupid stunt, another new never-before-seen record. Minghao can see Mingyu’s confidence grow, spiraling dangerously higher and higher, pushing at the confines of the roof. 

_Miracles can run dry too, you know_ . Minghao wants to hurl the words across the room. _You cannot believe that luck will be enough to save all of us._

“He’s cute,” Junhui says offhandedly from where they’re standing, as if that is supposed to make up for everything that Mingyu has done since transferring to the San Francisco Shatterdome (read: burrow his way under Minghao’s skin like the fucking worm that he is). Minghao is simultaneously offended and outraged beyond reason. 

“Still doesn’t give him the right to be so reckless,” Minghao mutters under his breath. 

“He’s good,” Junhui pats his shoulder placatingly. “You just don’t want to admit it. Because he’s also good- _looking_.”

“One day, I will kill you,” Minghao says coolly, gazing distractedly at all the whooping and hollering. It's a warranted celebration: this group of rangers has all passed their evals for the evening and graduated. They’re all one step closer to getting their own jaegers, one step closer to finding their own co-pilots to drift and share them with.

One of them already has a team, though he doesn’t know that just yet. And a 3-pilot jaeger waiting for him, too. 

Minghao studies Mingyu a little longer, letting his eyes wander the landscape. As much as he loathes to admit it, Mingyu has a face made for history, all noble and brave and memorable. And if Seokmin has anything to say about it, they’ll definitely make it there. The three of them. 

Mingyu catches his gaze over the heads of his cohort. For a moment, Minghao is struck speechless. He knows Mingyu feels it too, watches the way Mingyu’s mouth goes slack with shock and disbelief, feels the electricity arcing through the air between them.

Minghao nods hesitantly, a greeting in earnest. _Did you — ?_ The question goes unasked, but Mingyu imperceptibly straightens up and dips his head in polite greeting before whirling around to join the rest of the rangers on their way to the mess hall. _I did._

Junhui sees the whole thing unfold and grins wickedly, though he quickly schools his features into a blank expression when Seungcheol walks by. “Sir,” he adds respectfully, then resorts back to a gossiping schoolgirl the moment Seungcheol passes, hanging onto Minghao’s arm. “So, I’m right, right? He’s cute?” 

Minghao turns away. Lets that be his answer to the question instead, because he doesn’t want to think about a world in which Junhui is right. 

**►►►**

Mingyu tries too hard in the kwoon room. He’s trying his best, but he is all windmills and big attacks where Seokmin is lithe muscle, poised and practiced and restrained. 

They’ve been running combat for hours now, and every time Seokmin deftly blocks an attack to land one of his own, Mingyu lets out an annoyed growl and gets back to his feet and charges back into it. They’re sweaty, stripped down to their bare uniforms, muscle and sweat and meat clashing against each other, the sounds echoing around the room. It sounds absolutely divine and simultaneously wretched to Minghao, for the sole reason of it being Mingyu up there with Seokmin, under everyone’s careful scrutinization, and not Minghao himself. 

_Thwack!_ “Again.”

_Thump! “_ Again.”

_Smack!_ “Again,” Mingyu grits out, the sweat dripping from his forehead into his eyes. Seokmin bares his teeth in a thrilling grin and obliges. 

The air is humming with anticipation. Has been ever since Seokmin and Mingyu have started. Even Jihoon’s surprised at the tenacity with which they go at each other, how easily energy slams into one body, flowing from one another. An intricate dance with an even more demanding ritual. 

Blood hasn’t been drawn, but there’s something that tells Minghao not to rule that out just yet. He sits in the corner, watching Seokmin on the mat, legs crossed, veins thrumming. 

He can’t tell if he’s angry or simply jealous. Whatever it is, he’s simmering in it. Minghao has to bite his tongue to refrain from lashing out. 

War does not reward effort. It only remembers the victors, and Minghao does not intend to lose. 

He expects to be here for a while, stuck to the soundtrack of Mingyu losing over and over again. A bloom of pride swells in his chest as he watches Seokmin gain point after point, driving Mingyu to his knees. 

Then, something unexpected: Mingyu draws Seokmin in on a feint, uses the entirety of his opponent’s bulk against them and twists them around so that he’s got one knee on Seokmin’s heaving chest, face dangerously close to Seokmin’s. In a blink of an eye, Minyu has turned the tables and made it impossible for Seokmin to escape. 

There’s a glint in Mingyu’s eye, crowing and victorious. 

“Do you surrender,” Mingyu says, his forearm lined up against the adam’s apple of Seokmin’s throat, pressing down lightly. Mingyu’s not looking down at Seokmin though, and neither is Seokmin. 

Minghao swallows and ignores the pounding in his ears as he stares at them from across the room. 

He nods, throat too tight to speak. 

“I do,” Minghao says, and the hate he holds for Mingyu begins to flutter, shapeshifting into something that resembles respect. 

Minghao begins to craft his devotion. 

(Hands are extended, pulling the both of them off the floor, and Minghao has to admit that Mingyu doesn’t look half too bad in this light. 

“I think we started off on the wrong foot,” Mingyu laughs, wiping sweat haphazardly with the back of his hand. “I’m Kim Mingyu.”

“I know who you are,” Minghao says, but offers a small smile in return. Seokmin beams up at the both of them. “Welcome to the team.”)

**Author's Note:**

> apologies for any inaccuracies it's been a while since i've delved into pacrim i just had a hankering 2 write 97line like this


End file.
